Caffeine
by AzureShadowMoon
Summary: In hindsight, taking the blade before the paladin probably wasn't the brightest idea, both literally and mentally. SI. Self-Insert. (cover art by @sai-shou on tumblr)
1. Prologue

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If you sit down in a parlor and ever find yourself asking the inevitable 'what if I did something different, maybe this would have happened' I'm going to stop you right there with a warm blanket of a story.

(The blanket is itchy, worn, and has enough emotional trauma to feed several angsty teenagers)

You'll twist your head into a loop thinking of the possibilities. If you'd had just studied the night before. If you'd have just done the dishes when you asked. If only you'd remembered to do those chores. Maybe- just maybe- things would be different. If I hadn't committed incidental suicide via shower curtain, I might have finished college and lived a decently normal life.

(One of those is not like the others)

And if a decently normal life includes not being reborn into a video game of worldwide proportions and facing the biggest cluster fuck of problems, avoiding detrimental clouds, fighting a voice in a sword and beating the shit out of several blonde people, well.

Then what would _you_ have done differently?

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If you were to ever find your feet into the Stormwind City Library, and I do mean by happenstance and not by coincidence considering you'd have to have a reason to be there or pissing royalty into your cereal, you'd find a dusty old scroll on the farthest bookshelf facing the southern wall. The bookshelf is empty, the librarian merely shrugs at any inquires, and the whole thing smells like musty bread. If you were to peel open the scroll, never minding the sticky substance on the back, the words in side might come as a surprise.

Or not. Depends on if your Chromie or Wrathion, who both would love to have the scroll and you'd probably like to wash your hands. We can't all have miracles.

It'll be written elegantly, with the practiced hand of someone who had to endure hours of eloquence training. Not necessarily a royal, considering most upper and middle class citizens learn to make their writing look like a French student vomiting on it. But it looks pleasing to the eye.

" _Written by the most basic bitch in the world."_

It's a cringe worthy master piece.

" _I'll start this off short, since I want to write more but, eh, I'm in between a rock and a giant ass wall of ice that'll crush me at any moment. Problems, right? Well, listen buddy, problems are everywhere in this damn world. I can't walk out my door without some guy asking me to feed his squirrel some orphans for like two copper._

 _Looking back I'm sincerely regretting declining his offer._

 _Anyway, b_ e _sides bemusing child masochism, I'll introduce you to my good friend Frosty. He's an asshole, through and through. Or is it a she?_

 _(There's a scribble of a sword with a dick on it)_

 _There's this ancient tradition in my homeland of avoiding problems. It's called procrastination. Listen, pal, these words your reading? Yeah, a procrastinator wrote them. I bet you want to know what sinful people like myself end up with such a burden._

 _We end up half dead on a mountain with several million people wanting to cut off our head._

 _(The sword now has a frowny face)_

 _I say We because Frosty is as much neck deep in this as me. I mean, I was just doing what I thought was right. Then I kind of hoped for the best and sat on it for a while. Not to imply I sat on Frosty. I would die. In the end, I ended up miles behind an explanation I couldn't even hope to forge a signature for and the entire world pointing its fingers, and weapons, at me._

 _In hindsight, taking the blade before the paladin wasn't the brightest idea, both literally and mentally."_

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	2. Lordaeron Arc: 1

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Growing up in Lordaeron was, and _is,_ like trying to get your foot out of the ground and ending up falling on your face and right into a slew of problems that smell distinctly like human feces. While excluded the last part for future deathly virtues of the cities grim fate, the city was beautiful. Breathtaking. You couldn't walk ten feet outside your home without choking on a breeze riding rose petal, or slipping on someone's carpet crafted from some gods lavish hair. It was like walking on gold bricks, oh would you look at that, _it is gold bricks._ The horses that galloped in the streets pulled wagons of exotic cargo, shops had salivating scents and even the beggar on the corner would have a damn fine hat.

Except where there's fancy things, you must _act_ fancy.

I was the unfortunate bastard son of my dear old mom who would dearly like to take our neighbors machete and cleave my pops head clear off into the ocean. She would have too, if he hadn't up and ran. It was all a big scandalous event that featured my mother, red dressed and fine, my step dad who was stereotypically away most times than not to note if my mom was having an affair (she totally did and I totally don't think she fully regrets it), and my step sisters who would all claim I had someone switched my butt with my brain when I was born. At least the dog still remained the same.

I was born Aiden Demond, some early spring of some year that would have been important if my mom gave a shit. My father would have a name, but everyone just calls him 'deadbeat' so I've moved on with that cheerfully. My step father, who took the whole fiasco with enough grace of a lawful divorce, treated me like I was a stray cat he'd found and would greet me like he was seeing me for the first time. My sisters, two twins, were far to invested on being each other's rivals to give me the time of day, much less stop rambling about their paladin training.

Once again, our dog remained the only normal thing in this damn new life.

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Acting fancy. Being fancy. _Smelling fancy._

I was only five freaking years old when my mom sat me down on her knee and said, "Aiden, you are a grown man."

 _Wow._ I hoped the stare I was giving her gave off the best 'you fucking moron' vibes I could muster. My mother was sweet, prickly, but I'm certain I got my stupidity from her side. I must have been too obvious, because her pleasant smile turned downwards and she gave me a fleeting glare.

"Don't give me that, young man." She wagged her finely manicured finger at me. Her hair was once again done up into the tightest bun that was practically ripping her face upwards from the pull. Her elegant red dresses almost swallowed me into its puffiness, and I swear if she keeps me long enough that I start smelling her last affair on her clothes I was going to re-introduce her to baby vomit.

"Now," She reached across the table where parchments and inks were set up like some demented satanic worshipping bullshit. "Take this pen in your hands- no, _properly-_ and make this character."

I did so. The process was about as simple as chewing gum and burping. While inept in about everything but potty training, I could write English (or in this world Common) just as about as fine as ever. Cursive wasn't invented and if I had anything to say about it, it never will. The only problem was the motor function to grip something with pudgy little hands with flailing arms.

Accidently smacking my mom in the face was always the highlight of my day.

"Aiden." She sighed, eyebrows pinching slightly. "You'll be admitted to the academy soon. You do want to learn, don't you?"

"Yes." I said, because if I said no I'd end up stuck in this house with her forever.

She smiled, some of the stress lines fading away, "Good boy. Can you do me a favor and write all the characters right there? If you do it three times, I'll let you go play with Apha and Phila."

She gets 'play' out of 'holy smiting wood' and that is hilarious.

Apha and Phila were what you'd find under the definition sarcasm. Sometimes I'd be absolutely floored at the amount of sass they threw at each other along with barbed insults and scathing words. Any outsider would have taken the two as arch enemies ready to claim each other's head. I would have to go through the painstaking process of putting the two under the category 'sisters'.

Apha got me a 'how to be intelligent' book for my birthday, if that helps.

Phila was the oldest of the identical red heads from hell. They both were tall, long haired and emerald eyed girls that practically radiated tom boy confidence. Dresses were hissed at and being dolled up had them groaning and complaining to the point dear mother looked ready to break a window with her face. Their moods switched around when it came to training. They'd scream, shout, pray, and generally be annoying to anyone with ears while they threw around their swords and bashed their faces in with their shields.

(I loathe the nonexistence of cameras- there was so many broken noses to use as black mail)

Father, while ignoring my presence with the finesse of someone pretending they couldn't see down their own mustache, would instruct them daily through moves and stances. Being identical made it look hypnotic to my eyes, the way the twins would dance through fighting and poses.

(It only took a bold remark from Apha to turn grace into hair pulling and shrieking but by then I was already running away)

The twins, that morning, were already fresh out at training. I could see them well enough in our backyard, a small inlet between multiple buildings that had enough space for a tiny hill. The twins were avidly starting the day by beating the ever living shit out of the straw dummies there. It was by far the most satisfying and stress relieving thing to see.

"You're hitting that like a child." Apha would hiss under her breath.

"You're hitting yours like a drunkard." Phila would retort, nearly sending hers flying with a double bash of her shield. I sat on the sidelines, chin tucked behind my fists in amusement and awe at their strength. While shrieking at each other like banshees, they were somehow their own footholds. Apha would get stronger, which would make Phila angry and more determined to surpass. Phila would get stronger, Apha wouldn't stand for it. Apha gained one, Phila gained one. They were their own personal motivators and it was sort of inspiring to watch.

I was also going to invest in ear plugs the first chance I got.

"You cheat!" Apha swung her sword, the cut through the wind sending a _woosh_ through the air. Phila ducked, shield up and ready and she pressed against her sisters. Her own sword thrusted forward, jabbing alongside Apha's shield with a screeching hiss.

"I do not!" Phila snapped. "You can't parry at all."

"I can too!" She aptly followed this up by banging unceremoniously on Phila's shield three times in rapid fire aggression. "You long faced pig!"

"My face isn't long!" Phila was practically frothing at the mouth, shoving her shield into her sister's face with gusto. "I'm your mirror, you oaf!"

"As if I like looking like you! Deadbeat!"

I pinched my lips to stop from whistling, because on the wide scale of insults Apha had, some were just damn savage. Sometime I felt I was going to need to sit down and write them all out. Some were creative enough to sell for.

Phila's face bloomed crimson before she devolved into incomprehensible screaming. Swords and shields were forgotten in a mass tangle of limbs. I watched them roll down the hill, and sighed happily.

It was a good day.

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	3. Lordaeron Arc: 2

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Academy began with the soft tolling of a bell and the drooling spit of twenty toddlers having their first nap time.

It existed. I was tearfully grateful.

My first day began like any typical one. I was awoken to my mother ushering me out of bed, plucking clothes out of a wardrobe and combing my hair till I looked like a neat little kid and not the homeless looking bed head I was naturally graced with. While everyone in the family has lavishly wonderful red hair, I was the odd one out with the golden hair that was about as hard to manage as the dog when it got loose. I sympathized, only because the twins would take an hour each morning just to fix whatever rat's nest their own heads had become. Being patient through my mother's struggle was the least I could do.

Father, like always, was never to be found.

"I want you to be on your best behavior, Aiden." My mom said over the kettle. I blearily blinked at her over my breakfast, barely holding back a yawn and tossing a small 'yes mother' over the noise of my twins stumbling down the stairs.

Phila entered first, like always, eyes still shut as she bumped into the wall. She managed to sideswipe a pan, trip on the dog and crash into the counter before finding a spot next to me. Apha was less prompt and decided passing out halfway on her stool fit her better. I stared at them both for a few seconds before letting my head fall onto my empty plate.

Mother tutted above us, "Such ungrateful children I have. Phila, square up and fetch some firewood. Apha, are you loafing around so early? I have some flour I need from that cupboard, bring it here. Aiden, I _just_ fixed your hair try to keep it out of your food."

"Yes mother." We chorused, before simultaneously grimacing at each other.

The rest of the morning carried on as usual. My sisters abandoned each other and common decency as they ran to the backyard, causing all sorts of hell with my mother along the way. Mom would then spend half an hour tidying up in the mirror, put on her best big bright red hat with the stupid feather, and then take my bored ass to school.

My bad. _Academy_. We wanted to sound fancy too.

The blue uniform was stiff and uncomfortable. It was a vest, tied in the front almost too tightly for my liking. The slacks were a pale brown and were itchy around the ankle. Mother had managed to wrangle my hair with an outrageous amount of hair pins. It stuck up awkwardly in some places, making me constantly blow my bangs out of my face. My mother had her hand in mine, guiding me through the city streets with the ease of a dancer. Many who passed us tipped their hat or curtsied. It wasn't all that surprising. Despite sitting at the top of the middle class, she looked like a noble, and therefore was treated like one.

Even if she wasn't one. It's like seeing a celebrity look alike. Only with a puffy red dress and enough make up to take off thirty years.

Silver Oak Academy is the cesspool of youth in Lordaeron. If you were to create an image of a school in your head, quadruple it by four and add small groups of priests roaming the grounds like they damn near owned it. Which they did. The Academy was founded by Lordaeron Cathedral, the holy pinnacle of an absolute waste of space. If they hadn't had their banner painted with every Silver Hand paladin that trotted around, I would assume the priesthood was extinct. But, like all kingdoms, they have their religion and that religion has followers and those followers decide to be improvised security guards for five year olds.

I was missing a pedophilic joke in there intentionally. I did _not_ want to think about it.

Mom made sure she was known amongst the crowds. She didn't do it snidely or strut her stuff. The fact that her red, bright color in the sea of whites, greys, and browns was enough of an eye catcher. Her silver embroidered shawl was what had eyes lingering longer then needed. I know the emblem of the Silver Hand well. I was acquainted with it. My good ol' pops was a paladin in there after all. My mom knew this too. Especially as she handed me off to a class with likely people shitting gold into their diamond toilets. These kids were snotty, bratty, and starred at my bed head with nothing short of abject horror.

"Be good, Aiden." Mom bade, ushering me forward with a gentle push. I tossed a glance at her, separated by the crowd like she was her own red sea. I knew it didn't bother her. She had Apha and Phila to get back to, and father wouldn't be home in god knows how long (I considered who was the actual affair here).

So I did a good son deed, picked myself up on my tip toes and pecked her cheek, "Have a good day, mother."

She smiled charmingly, giving my shoulder a pat (because if she did what father did, like ruffling my hair, she'd probably just save herself the trouble and cut her arm off). I was swept up in the crowd of obnoxious toddlers and into the waiting arms of an old, musty classroom. It wasn't depilated, but it was unkempt with the wear of many generations. It was unique and by far the most glamorous. The desks were shiny, the utensils were clean, and the chalk board was brand new.

I found myself in the back corner, too smart to catch my dumbass in the front for the second life in a row.

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Like any school, we had recess.

I lovingly dubbed it 'nappier time'. My classmates were not quite as thrilled with me at the prospect of another nap. I didn't mind as they rushed around the Academy grounds, playing orcs and knights like good little kids. Sitting myself amongst the brush of the hedges, I lazily enjoyed the windless sunny day for all its worth.

For approximately thirteen seconds.

"Look out!"

Something soft and wet blew across my cheek, throwing me to the side with astounding force. I flailed, one of the twins patented screams escaping me as I tumbled down the hill. My shoe caught on a root and I found myself suspended upside down, back pressed heavily against the earth.

"Are you okay?" The sound of rushing footsteps had me perking up, immediately bristling at the implication I'd been creamed by a- what the hell had I even been hit with?- by a kid no less.

"No." I snapped childishly, feeling annoyed my entire uniform as ruffled, my hair was skewed, and my mom was probably already seething somewhere about it. I turned my ire to the kid, coming up short with how _normal_ he looked.

His hair was a bright, _bright_ strawberry blonde. While mine was a bit dull in color, his practically _radiated_ light. It was short, spiky on his head. He wore the uniform about as untidy as I felt, his tie thrown over his shoulder and his vest hanging off one shoulder. Freckles dotted his cheeks just below a pair of impossibly _bright_ blue eyes. A small white checkered scarf hung around his neck, the only semblance of individuality amongst us kids. But still, it made him look like the offspring of Arthas if Arthas decided having kids with a volcano sounded good.

 _Holy shit,_ I gaped, _this kid was born from the fucking sun._

"Hello?" He tilted his head, furrowing his brows in concern. "Did you hit your head?"

"No." I said again, less unkindly now that I was less dazed. I picked myself up, wrangling myself into the somewhat tidiness my mother had made for me. The laughter and shrieks of children across the yard felt like background noise. He lifted his lips up into a boyish grin.

"Sorry." He laughed, lifting his grimy, muddy hands up to show off a blue toad. "Fidget might have gotten a bit carried away. He's funny like that."

I squinted at the amphibian. It croaked, staring off into space like it hadn't just aerial dive bombed my face with its ass.

"Sure." I settled with, deciding not to have a brawl with something a pint of my size. "Who are you again?"

"Timmy." He lifted his arm to shake but I took a step back, not fighting the disgust on my face. His smile dropped, replaced with a resigned frown. "You don't like Fidget?"

"No." I crossed my arms, leaving no argument to be said about me touching the thing. It looked stupid anyway. "I don't want to get dirty."

"That's no fun." He was pouting now. Which wasn't fun, because he was a pretty cute kid, so it was _horrible_ to say no again. My mouth twitched. He carried on despite my struggle. "We can play in the puddles if you don't wanna get dirty. Water is clean."

He missed the point. _He missed the point_ but the decline was caught in my throat. He peered at me hopefully.

"Wanna play?" He asked, grinning again like the sun's rays could become a smile.

If there was ever a being on Azeroth that could have sad that word to that face, I would have bet money even _they_ wouldn't be able to say it.

And thus, Timmy became my first friend.

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	4. Lordaeron Arc: 3

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Timmy was dumb.

I wasn't going to say he was dumb compared to me, or another adult mind. No. He was a child world wonder kind of dumb. The metal fork in a socket kind of dumb.

Delicately, he was a manipulative child with the tendency to have whatever was in his hands projectile vomit onto you. Honestly, he was a kid so oblivious to just about everything from homework to how far a booger can fly. I gave up ever salvaging his situation when it even came to light.

"I live in Strathholme." He's babbled on and on, with no prompting from myself just to waste space with words. He'd toddle his way beside me, lugging around Fidget and making a mess. "My pa and ma thought I needed a break and sent me to live with Auntie Angie. Dunno why though."

And it had _absolutely_ nothing to do with the rising stock market prices for produce, the expensive city taxing itself to death, or even the fact that his parents were likely going through the worst of divorces. Timmy was a smart kid, he could figure out something was wrong. He just thought it was because it rained too much, or something just as stupid.

"They're just busy." I said on his parent's behalf, and whether it be with lawful documents or settling their dispute, I honestly didn't care. I was still pissed he'd gotten me dirty. While cute, he was on my shit list.

"Yeah." Timmy kicked his feet as he walked, scuffing up dirt along the courtyard. "Yeah, busy."

"Do you have any sisters?" I asked, looking for something to leech off of. "Brothers?"

"Nope." He grinned, a dimple on his left cheek making itself known, "Just me! Ma says I was once in a miracle."

 _Meaning,_ I deadpanned, _you were the biggest holy fuck of an accident she couldn't have been more surprised if she woke up one morning with her head sown to the carpet._

Dumbass.

"Cool." I said instead, focusing on the tolling of church bells in the distance. Academy time had ended an hour ago, but mom was busy taking dinner to good ol' pop. Half the time I forgot he even existed, let alone where the guy worked. She'd warned me before dropping me off that she'd be giving it to him for his lunch break.

"Aiden." Timmy started walking backwards, nearly tripping me with his ridiculous prancing. "For winter break, do you wanna visit my ma and pa? They'd be super happy to meet you."

"Are you visiting them?" I asked. "Maybe they have plans."

His smile dimmed, just a tad, "Ma and pa never leave me out of vacations."

I hummed but didn't answer, letting him stew over the possibility of a not-so-happy ending. On top of all the things Timmy brought to the table was his painful reminder of where I was. Lordaeron was to memory a ruin. Stratholme would be ashes. Timmy would be another faceless victim to something so over the top and horrible. Timmy would die. The city would die. My family would die. _I_ would die. While these reminders were something I'd acknowledge a long time ago, Timmy constantly remising about his home city wasn't the funniest trips down memory lane.

Fidget croaked warningly and I cowardly ducked away, not wanting to risk the fucker giving my face another bruise. Timmy laughed awkwardly, holding his pet a little closer to his chest.

"Fidget likes you." He said.

I crossed my arms and pretended I hadn't treated his pet like a grenade, "Don't you have to get home soon?"

"Auntie Angie works late at the loom." He chirped, nearly skipping with his boundless energy. "I can play for a little while longer."

"Do you not have someone to watch you?" I squinted at the kid. He remained oblivious, goofily blowing a raspberry at Fidget. The thing croaked back.

He didn't answer, deciding to hum and skip to his own beat. The silence was stagnant and for a moment I considered if Timmy was smarter then he let on. That he knew how alone he was, that going back to an empty house wasn't on his to do list.

"Hey." I started but stopped short when I noticed he'd stopped skipping. We'd somehow made our way to the edge of the Academy courtyard. We couldn't stray too far from the priest's eyes, since leaving school grounds without a guardian was forbidden. But here at the edge we could see the crowds of the city walking by, and more importantly, the entourage of silver crested warhorses trotting up the lane. From the size of the war party, there had to be two dozen horseman, with large banners framing the parade. The silver of the uniforms was a giveaway and I looked away. The possibility of seeing my step dad left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Wow." Timmy awed, leaning forward on his tip toes to get a better look from the gathered crowd. The gentle chatter of the afternoon rose into a steady beat of cheers and well wishes from the citizens. The paladins, from my peripheral vision, waved and saluted to the crowd. It looked like they were setting out.

"They look so cool." Timmy gushed, clasping his hands together with starry eyes. "I want to be like them one day. Do you think they'll give me my own horse?"

"Do you know how to ride?" I asked back, finding a nearby bird on the road interesting.

He pouted, prancing on his feet with impatience, "I want to follow them to the gates! Why did Auntie have to stay late? I never get to see them ride off."

I didn't say anything as the paladins faded down the road, the crowd dispersing back into its afternoon clutter. Timmy made a noise of disappointment, scuffing his feet on the ground. Distantly, the church bells rang.

"Hey," I kept my gaze on my feet, "You wanna come over for dinner? My mom's cooking venison."

"Oh!" Timmy blinked at me, arms slacking at his side before picking himself up with a burst of excited energy. "Yeah! Can I bring Auntie Angie? We can have her hunter's pie!"

I held back the grimace building, forcefully reminding myself that he was five years old, "Sounds good."

And then we both stared at his empty hands.

"Timmy."

"Yeah?"

"Where's the demon?"

"You mean Fidget?"

". . ."

". . . Whoops."

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	5. Lordaeron Arc: 4

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Timmy became more tolerable as time went on. While he dragged his pet everywhere along with his insufferable energy, he could hold a conversation with me while every other child our age still drooled and peed their bed. We found ourselves constantly hanging out, whether it be at the Academy or at our own homes. More often than not, it was his house, since the possibility of my own parents' divorce might remind him of his own parents. I didn't need that bringing him down.

Unfortunately, his aunt has a house party to host and Timmy has allergies to a lot of the clothe fabrics his aunt worked with. So he dumped himself at my house for the evening. It wasn't too terrible, since my parents had a dinner date and my sisters were too busy beating the shit out of each other in the backyard to give us the time of day.

He readily enjoyed my pastime of watching them.

"Woah." He awed, as Phila sucker punched Apha in the gut and they both went down in a pile of flailing limbs. "Do you think that hurt?"

I shrugged as Apha screamed something about birth defects, "I don't think it hurt too badly if they're still so noisy."

We watched them brawl from the kitchen window, lounging on it and enjoying the mid afternoon sun. It was lazy, it was summer, and I wanted nothing to do but sleep. Timmy didn't have the patience or restraint to follow through on that, thus dragging me un-willfully wherever his heart desired.

Precautionary, Fidget was in a bucket in the cupboard. For both mine and the dog's sake.

"Twin's look funny." Timmy spoke, kicking his legs against the side of the house. "They both have the same hair. Same face. It's hard to look at."

"I guess." I said. "You might tell them apart if you get used to them."

Timmy grinned, "You think so? That'd be cool! I'd be a twin detective."

 _More like twin defective,_ I thought. "Phila is self-centered and Apha likes to play victim."

"I still don't get it." He pointed at them as the two clashed swords. "They even have the same armor! If they don't like each other, why do they dress like each other?"

"Who knows?" I lifted a shoulder carelessly. "In a few years they'll move out to continue their training in the bastion. It's not like you have to get used to them."

I carefully didn't let my mind wander to the subject of the Silver Hand Bastion. The headquarters sitting itself in Stratholme. I didn't know how well my head could handle that thought process, or what I'd even do about it. It was best to nip it at the bud before it even started. I was procrastinating about it, but it didn't bother me in the slightest.

"But," Timmy exhaled stressfully and looking close to tears, "They're your sisters."

 _So what?_ I wanted to snap. _I had a dad too. It's nothing but a title._

I clamped my mouth down, feeling my brow twitch with annoyance. I was over this. There was no reason to get pissed about something I'd long ago accepted and swallowed. Especially at a five year old.

"We don't get along." I didn't look Timmy's way, knowing he'd be giving me those damn eyes. I wondered how his caretaker managed to survive all these years. I wouldn't mention how the most I've talked with my siblings is whose turn was it to use the washroom or whenever foods ready. A decent conversation? They pick up too much after pops for that kind of stuff.

My appreciation for my mom went up slightly, but only because she was obligated to.

"Who is who again?" Timmy asked, squinting at the twins.

"Apha." I pointed to the youngest who was earnestly rolling down the hill. "Phila." The other was doing a good job screaming about her sprained ankle. All in all, a cluster fuck.

My friend blinked, coming to a dawning revelation, "They are gonna be paladins?"

"Well-" I hesitated as Apha charged up the hill on all fours, head butting Phila and sending the both of them crashing into a water basin. The tub slipped and they were tumbling down the hill again, landing with a solid thump against a tree. Our neighbor, an elderly women too used to their antics, yelled at them for upsetting her goats. She was ignored as Phila tried to decapitate her sibling with a hay bale.

"Try to." I corrected. "They might die before they get to initiation though."

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We didn't always avoid my parents.

If I had a word to describe my step dad, I wouldn't be able to say it in front of Timmy. So when he asked, I just pointed to the toilet and gave him a dry look. My sisters admired him from head to toe, nagging and badgering him whenever he showed up for practice or advice. His stony expression would soften at the twins, patting their heads and leading them out back to teach them some tricks. He'd feed the dog, his old hunting partner, he'd talk to the neighbors and he'd even make dinner one night for mother.

They were astoundingly good at acting like they loved each other.

I didn't doubt they had at least an inkling of a liking. They had children after all, but it'd also been well over a decade since then. Dad was busy. Mom was restless. Then I came along. It was the hammer that drove the nail that snapped the wooden plank in half. Despite this, I didn't consider them bad people. Usually relationships cracked and broke, then never mended. But they were still 'together' (with the loosest meaning of the word). Divorce didn't stop them from raising their children. They hashed out their problems.

But it was still awkward.

Timmy was remarkably quick on picking up my lazy habits. Laying around and sleeping was not up to par with his childlike energy. It was a dilemma for him, since he didn't want to play alone. It was a win for me, since I considered myself the adult here and had to supervise him. But he learned quickly how to solve this issue.

By dragging me headfirst into situations I couldn't fix.

"Timmy, slow down!" I hissed, digging my feet into the floor. The blonde in front of me laughed, high pitched and loud, before barreling down another corridor of my house. I held onto his hand for dear life, inwardly lamenting my abandoned peace.

"Let's play something out back!" Timmy started bouncing with every step, "Let's play tag!"

"Okay!" I shouted, desperate for a compromise before my arm got torn off.

We made it to the dining room, popping into the room with heaving breaths and, in Timmy's case, breathless laughter. I took in air greedily before sharply turning to him.

"You-" I began testily, only for the words to die on my mouth.

It was early in the evening, so I wasn't at all expecting to see my pops home from work. He was sitting back in a chair, a mug of frothy ale halfway raised to his lips. Mother sat opposite of him, across the table and seeming to make as much space as possible between them. This wouldn't have been weird at all, and we could have silently snuck our way around the two and out the door. They would have ignored us.

But.

But mom was crying.

Timmy had enough smarts to recognize the situation and be quiet. His face was ashen though, eyebrows pinched in vulnerable confusion. The adults seemed to know beforehand we were coming, if us shouting was anything to go by. They weren't making a noise. The only thing moving had to be the tears down mother's cheeks.

I didn't know what to do. The smart thing to do would be to leave. But another, older side of me was seething that _he_ had the audacity to make mother cry. It kept me rooted in spot.

"Kids." Mothers voice came out hoarse but at least she was _trying._ "Why don't you go outside and play? The adults are talking."

Timmy barely made a noise past a whimper, looking between the two like he was having trouble seeing them. I had to get him out of here. Grabbing his hand, I gently tugged him forward, moving him alongside the room. We passed by my mother and I almost stopped again, feeling turmoil at the sight of her makeup running down her face. She was such a stickler for being pretty that no one in the world should have seen such a sight.

It was agonizing to take the next step.

I made sure we stayed on mothers side of the room, eyes firmly locked at our feet. It was eerily silent. It felt wrong. The relief that came when we stepped out the door felt _wrong._

"Oh." Timmy said, voice sounding about as hoarse as mothers was. There were tears in his eyes. "Oh."

I fisted my hand, running it up and down my sleeve just for something to _do._ I felt restless. I wanted to run away from this house. I wanted to run in there and scream at them. I wanted to take Timmy back to his house and tell him being friends wouldn't work out.

I took a deep breath. Timmy was crying.

 _Stop it,_ I forcefully relaxed myself, _you can be pathetic later, Timmy needs you._

"C'mon." I kept my voice at a whisper, tugging him forward with the least amount of force as I could offer. He obliged, shaking with sniffles and hiccups as he fretfully used his other hand to wipe at his eyes. I didn't really have a destination in mind since we couldn't leave the house and the backyard was owned by more than just us. But I could hear the clanking of metal and frustrated noises atop the hill. I decided it was a better place than much of the city and trudged forward.

"Your sword is as dull as your tongue." Phila was snarling as we reached the top. I could see them both in the glow of the sunset, their armor tossed aside as they ran towels through their hair and went through a series of stretches. I stopped myself from stumbling at the sight of Apha doing a perfect splits. The twins were always amazing to see at work.

"Whatever." The younger twin grumbled, stretching herself forward to touch her foot. "You're just mad I almost snapped your neck."

"In your dreams. Your sword was never going to hit me" Phila combed a hand through her hair, idly kicking her sister's shield that was laying nearby. Phila raised her head with a dangerous glare. I was expecting them to brawl, but found myself stiffening when Timmy let loose an obvious sob.

The twins froze, rigidly turning to us. Their entire posture screamed awkward and confused. I blinked, still surprised they'd even acknowledged our presence. They didn't even give us the time of day when Timmy tried to introduce himself.

I forced myself out of my thoughts, rushing to Timmy and feeling overwhelmed by his tears. He was almost bawling now, eyes puffy and cheeks red. I panicked for a moment, not wanting to upset him more by hugging him or touching him. And he was close to _wailing._

"Hey." I nearly wailed myself when I noticed Phila- _whoa what the fuck-_ crouching next to us, her long red hair curtaining most of her expression. She looks pensive. "What happened little tyke? Did you fall?"

I winced when Timmy only shook his head, not able to make words passed his hiccups. Apha sauntered to our other side and leaned forward on her heels. The whole situation was having me nervous, since the twins were acting weird and Timmy was still _crying._

"Hey, Aiden, what happened?" She muttered and I squinted at the almost accusing tone. _She thought I made him cry? Why this-_ I took a deep breath and shook my head, feeling close to tears myself with how frustrating this evening was.

"Mom and dad were fighting." I answered, scuffing my feet.

The twins shared a _look._ There was a pause where Timmy managed to scrub his face clean. He was still trembling but at least not an absolute wreck. I reached my hand out and prodded his. Only when he grabbed it did I relax, drawing him in for a hug.

"Do you wanna go catch a friend for Fidget?" I asked quietly, though knowing I'd eat my words later. It was something to calm him down.

He nodded into my shoulder. I let the hug last a little longer, letting him wipe his face into my shirt- _the things I do for this kid-_ when the twins shuffled around us. I didn't expect them to do anything and didn't think anything of Phila making her way back to the house.

"Do you two know how to use a sword?" Apha asked.

I squinted up at her, trying to piece together what she was implying. Timmy peered up as well, eyes gleaming with tears but face morphed into a pout.

"No." He answered for the both of us.

She walked back to the training dummies, braiding out the thatch from behind the armor. We watched her owlishly. She wove the thatch around a pair of sticks and approached us, holding out the improvised weapons.

"Go nuts." She said, already turning to the house with a backwards wave. We watched her go, her red hair disappearing behind the back door. Timmy held up his makeshift sword, eyebrows pinched together.

"What do we do with these?"

"Uh." I blew out an aggravated breath, rolling the tenseness out of my shoulders. This day was a roller coaster. It was astounding how good went to catastrophic shit hole in a few moments. My parents were just assholes who should have known Timmy was over and taken their business somewhere else, like their damn room. The twins could have been gracious and ignored us like always. But what the hell happened anyway? What was with those reactions?

 _Of course they notice Timmy,_ a dark thought stirred in my chest, _I could be bawling my eyes out right next to them and they wouldn't give me the time of day those-_

I shut my eyes. Tightly.

 _Stop it._ I crossed my arms around my chest, feeling smaller then this tiny body already was. _Just…just give it a rest._

"Aiden?" Timmy was holding his sword up experimentally. With the way he was shaking it he was definitely going to poke out his eyes. At least the waterworks was over.

I dropped my stick. "C'mon." I said, grabbing his hand and making our way towards the canal. "Let's get out of here before they come back screeching."

"Your sisters are nice." He smiled shyly, twirling his sword playfully. "I like them."

"Sure." I said, ignoring the dark thought twisting itself in my stomach.

Even when Timmy went home that night with a new pet, the twins back to their old selves and my parent's frosty acknowledgement of each other back to par, the unsettling feeling did not go away.

* * *

 **A/N New fanart for the story! Check out sai-shou on tumblr, she does amazing art and commissions!**


	6. Red Devils Arc: 1

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Things got weird.

Not in a good sense. Definitely not in a good fucking sense because holy Christ if anything was decently normal around here I wouldn't have the wear a bucket because of two fucking toads that didn't cooperate. Fidget was already a time bomb, but now I had the blue amphibian of mucus death to deal with as well.

Timmy graciously dubbed him Rainy.

Don't get me started on my blonde counterpart. The kid was fun to hang out with if only to appease my heathen mother in proving that I was indeed sociable and had a friend. But he quickly became as annoying as his frogs when it came to my lazy time. He had no off button.

(This had nothing to do with my growing resentment of his love for the twins)

(Absolutely nothing)

(…)

I wish I could say the twins went back to beating the shit out of each other, my parents went back to avoiding each other, and Timmy went back to being annoying. If there was one thing I didn't pride myself on being naïve about, is a determined Timmy and a heap ton of problems involving two red heads.

.

.

My first clue that something was universally fucked was Phila walking into my room with Fidget on her head. I doubt anyone could blame me for the girly shriek that came out of my mouth. Not to mention the _huge_ net in her hand. The hooks on it said she'd borrowed it from our local fisherman. To me it seemed like she was ready to murder me and hide the body.

"I didn't do it!" I immediately jumped on my bed, denial flying out my mouth faster than I could comprehend the situation. "Whatever it was, Apha did it!"

"Shut up." Her deadpan expression had me relaxing a bit. Not entirely. Alarms were ringing in my ears because I was positive this was the first time anyone but my mother or Timmy was in my room. "Come out back, your friends here."

"But he has lessons?" I asked, mostly to myself. Timmy had private etiquette lessons on weekdays. While my mother managed mine just fine on her own, Timmy was a toddler with combustible energy and his aunt can't handle bombs. Which didn't explain why he was here.

I was still freaking out about Fidget on her head. Did she even _know?_

I hesitated at my doorway, hearing her footsteps down the stairs fading. Mom was out with friends and dad was at work, as usual. I wasn't expecting anything different, other than mom being late to my lessons. This was already bewildering.

I found myself out back, the sun lowering itself to touch the city chapel in the distance. It wasn't quite late enough to be sunset, but late enough that it was weird for any sort of activity. The twins stood atop their usual training spot, looking idle and bored. Between them, with flailing limbs and too many frogs, was Timmy. His shouts of glee were having me grimacing in doubt.

I was spotted before I could change my mind. Timmy sealed my fate by yelling, "Aiden! I have a surprise for you!" And then proceeding to trip and tumble down the hill, eating as much of the ground as he could. I stared blankly as he reached the bottom, giggling and coughing.

"Aiden!" He stumbled up to me, hooking his arm through mine in the universally 'you're doomed to be my hostage no matter how many frogs are in my pockets' hold. "We're going to play a game with the twins!"

I blanched, immediately digging my feet into the hill before we could start ascending, "Uh, no, I was doing work-"

"Boring!" Timmy stuck his tongue out at me and I dearly couldn't wait for him to grow up so I could slug him in the gut. "C'mon, we have a really fun game planned."

I swallowed the whimper in my throat and let myself be dragged up, though not without some resistance. The twins were still there, though Apha was sitting on a hay bale now and Phila was looking into Timmy's frog bucket. They still looked like they'd rather be throwing punches. I sympathized.

"We're all here!" Timmy hooted, dragging me to the center. "Aiden, the twins are gonna teach us how to play with sticks."

I _barely_ stopped the need to scoff. It sounded dull and something we'd done a long time ago when we were younger. I didn't much care for that though. Feeling the pressure of the twin's gazes for, what, the third time in my life? It was unnerving. I shrunk my shoulders and scuffed my feet, mumbling an 'okay'.

"Great." Apha clapped her hands, nearly making me shriek at the suddenness. She moved off the hay bale with less gracefulness then any female her age. Somewhere mom was clutching her chest in agony. Apha picked up- _those aren't sticks Timmy what the fuck-_ two chipped wooden swords, and improvised dinner plates with thatch wrapped around them.

"Here." Phila carefully handed Timmy his, who was shaking in so much excitement I knew he'd end up dropping them more than once. She turned to me and I had to stop myself from taking a step back. The twins had always been intimidating. Even just one without the other, they were ginormous compared to my toddler stature. She kneeled down to my height, holding out the sword and 'shield'. Everything inside me screamed to duck away.

"Thanks." I mumbled, slowly taking them from her. Her expression didn't change as she stood and walked over to the training dummies. We followed her, Timmy much more excited than me. Apha hovered behind us, arms crossed and permanently sealing away any escape attempts.

"It's simple." Phila started, hefting her own very real and deadly sword up to the training dummy. Hysterically, I wondered the merits of teaching Timmy how to use sharp pointy things, but decided the situation was already a cluster fuck. "Mimic me, kids. Right foot forward, left foot parted. See?"

She demonstrated. Awkwardly, we followed suit. Apha tutted behind us and nudged my left leg further to the side with her own foot. She straightened Timmy's shoulders with a small flick. Phila moved her sword forward, in a position frighteningly familiar to any attack position I'd ever seen, in this life and on a computer screen.

"Your opponents are always going to be different sizes." She said. "No matter what, keep your sword level with your torso. Any lower or higher and you won't have the power to strike."

"Cool." Timmy awed, looking down at his sword like his own personal nuke was in his hands.

She ran through a few more positions, never actually striking the training dummy. We learned the _Faux_ stance, a loose fitting position that was easy to feint out your opponent. Timmy was fond of using the _Shield_ kata, left arm hooked forward with a dingy dinner plate to take any damage. In front of a training dummy, he looked ridiculous. Being lazy, I made my home in the _Strike_ pose, sword extended similar to how Phila had showed us. I didn't particularly admire anything wearing down my left arm and ditched the shield for a two hands on the hilt.

We went through the kata's for a few hours. It was weird, seeing the twins both patient and studious towards us. A warm feeling bubbled in my chest, seeing half smiles and Timmy's excited grin. Being gloomy was hard around this atmosphere.

It felt wrong.

 _I've been alive six years._ I thought as we helped pick up the training area. _You've never acknowledged me before. What the hell did Timmy do that I haven't already?_

I tried not to simmer on those thoughts. It was stressfully hard with Timmy shadowing the twins, babbling and singing praises. The twins didn't seem to care, offering their attention when needed and nodding in reassurance. For a moment, I could picture myself as the guest in this home and Timmy as their little brother.

 _Shut up,_ I weakly swatted the thoughts away, _just shut up._

"That was fun!" Timmy beamed as we trotted back inside, the twins staying behind for practice. "We should do that again."

"Yeah." I mumbled, ready for the day to end. "Sure."


	7. Red Devils Arc: 2

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.

Things reached their breaking point a few days later.

It was a lot of things, and not just my fault. _Okay,_ I was being a little shit. Granted, if I had been a bit smarter and sat things down with the twins, things wouldn't have ended the way they did. I wouldn't be herding my ass to another city, I wouldn't have Timmy hanging over my shoulder crying about our misfortune, and I definitely wouldn't be tied at the hip with these twins.

It started right after academy got out. Timmy was invading my personal space (begging my mom to hang out at my house and winning her over with those damn eyes) and dragging me around at his usual break neck speed. For the past few days, he'd manage to herd me out back and get the twins to teach us a few tricks, whether it be how to hold a sword or different ways to swing it. I was itching for the day to actually hit something with it, preferably Timmy's idiocy.

"We should play jacks." Timmy mused, wiggling on my bed. I sat on the floor next to it, pouring over my studies to avoid our 'twin time'. "Do you have any dice?"

"My pops does." I answered idly. "I dunno. I have a few pins in a drawer somewhere."

"That won't work."

I shrugged. Being bored was his own damn fault. Serves him right for barging over here and expecting to be spoon fed excitement. He made a noise and rotated, planting his head near my shoulder.

"Hey, Aiden?"

I kept from twitching away from his breath, "Yeah?"

"Do you hate the twins?"

I didn't say anything to that, because I honestly don't know the answer. I flipped a page silently. Timmy wasn't smart, but he was perspective in ways that nailed things on the head. I could see his frown in my peripheral vision.

"Do you not want to talk to them?" His voice lowered, softer with the implications of his own words, "I just wanted to see you three happy."

My mouth twitched, "We were happier separate."

"I don't know." He huffed dubiously. "You looked lonely."

The book in my lap snapped closed before I could stop the muscles in my arms from twitching. The action was as loud as a scream in the silence. Timmy had straightened, the noise jolting him away from me like I'd stung him. A worm of guilt had me wrestling down the bristle in my shoulders. _He's just a kid, stop._

"They don't care. They haven't before." I bit out, the truth settling awkwardly in my stomach. "What's the difference now? Nothing. It's better if these lessons stop before something happens."

"Something happens?" He echoed, face contorting in almost pain. "They're nice, Aiden. Besides, they haven't told us to scram yet. It's working out, you'll see!"

I pinched my nose to stop the moody exhale building behind it. The noise would just startle him. Acting like a teenager in fresh angst did that to him. Being a kid again wasn't supposed to be this hard. But Timmy was perspective, annoyingly so. Even with him picking me apart like a game of Clue, he was just a kid. A dumb kid, poking a tiger. But a kid.

 _The things I do for you._ I let the tension roll off me as forcibly as I could manage. I rolled my shoulders, getting as loose as possible. The action sparked him to crawl down beside me, eagerly leaning into my space.

"So you'll try?" He egged, grin shining. "Please? For me?"

"Why for you?" I blinked, torn between indecision and just saying fuck it. He pouted and started pawing at my shoulder, his voice borderline whining.

"Aiden! You have to promise!"

"Fine!" I flinched away from his hands, sputtering out, "I promise to get along with my sisters. Happy?"

The grin he gave me put the sun to shame. "Good! You have to own up to that promise, okay? Let's go see what they're doing."

I mournfully abandoned my book to the floor, letting myself be dragged wherever his energy willed. My parents weren't home, thankfully, so another repeat of our last encounter didn't happen. We made it to the yard without incident, though what was happening in the yard was far from unexpected. By the raised voices, it was practically normal.

"If you would just listen-" Phila's voice, grating and low, like a tigers growl in the night. She was using her 'superior then thou' complex again.

Apha wasn't having it. "I've been listening!" The red head's scream carried down the hill like a shrill banshee. "You're saying insanity! As if the Bastion- You're just crazy! Screw you!"

Timmy's footsteps faltered as we crested the hill. The sight was 'normal', so to speak. But it was off in a way that could only stop us in our tracks. Fists would be flying, usually. Instead, the twins faced each other on opposite sides of the field. It was like a driving, pinning force was separating them. The tension in their shoulders had my hand gripping Timmy's harder. He stopped accordingly, eyes trained on the twins.

"You're hopeless." Phila hissed, her fists on her hips and her chin tilting upwards tauntingly. "You read the letter. We go at morning when the sun rises. A carriage will be waiting for us and others at the gate. Father has put much into-"

"To hell with that!" Apha stomped, her armor clinking slightly at the action. "Why the both of us?! Don't tell me you're not pissed off too! Only one of us was supposed to be his successor! Why are they sending us both!?"

Phila snarled, her patience snapping, "As if I know! Stop being such a child and accept what's been given to you!"

"That's such horse shit!"

"Shut up!"

Timmy made a soft noise. I blinked, drawing my eyes back to him only to feel a familiar cold chill down my back. His eyes were glassy and his lip was trembling. It was eerily similar to the same face he made to my parents the other day. The noise grew into a sniffle. From the way words were escalating, he wasn't far from complete breakdown.

 _Fix this!_ A voice in my head screamed, sounding just as frantic as I felt about a crying Timmy.

My legs moved of their own accord, propelling me past Timmy and straight onto the field. A small part of me practically screeched at the thought of putting myself between the twins. Having seen their brawls, it was morbidly terrifying to imagine one of their swords coming at my face. The thought of a teary eyes Timmy far outweighed that.

"Hey!" I shouted, scuffing my feet when I came to a stop. The twin's voices cut off just as suddenly as I appeared. I tried to face both of them, but with how spread they were I could only face the other side of the yard, twisting my head back and forth between the two. Pissed, breathing heavily, and only mildly confused. This was a mess.

And they were looking right at me.

The hairs on my neck stood up, the amount of attention them giving me now being chilling at the least. It was a weird and outlandish to have them stare at me, especially like that. _What the fuck,_ I thought through the panic building, _what the fuck have I done what do I do oh god-_

"Aiden, get back." Phila's voice was piercing and forceful. I had to pinch my thigh to stop her command from having me scurry to the sidelines. _For Timmy,_ I chanted, _For Timmy._

"No." I could have cheerfully handed myself 'wimpiest protest in the world' award right there. I kept going, not letting myself stop and never speak again. "L-Let's stop, please?"

I winced. The twin's expressions didn't change.

"This is all your fault." Apha spoke over me, eyes trained on her sister like I wasn't there anymore. The thought unsettled the dark festering nonsense in my gut. "Things would have been easier if I was an only child."

 _Ouch._

Phila scoffed, flicking her hair to the side, "I'm sorry you're only good at whining and nagging. It's only expected they'd ask me to come, to fix your helpless skill. I'm the best in this family, after all. The most favored."

 _Oh, ouch._

Apha bristled, eyes silting, "And don't you think it's because your fat head is all father can see? Poor him, having such a shameful family. There's nothing but bad blood here."

 _. . . Ouch._

I wasn't looking at the two anymore, but I heard Phila's laugh carry over. It sounded ugly. "Honestly! You can't even stake your own claim properly. You've brought yourself as low as possible. Perhaps you'll have a bastard son as well?"

"Oh." My voice came out louder than I thought it would. There wasn't a sound afterwards. Were they surprised? Did they already forget I was standing right there?

 _Perhaps you'll have a bastard son as well._

I didn't have any love for the guy who brought me here, and I didn't have any love for the guy raising me. My mother could be wholly blamed on my existence, or she could be cherished for this second life. I hadn't a clue to feel about the people in this new life, how to react or how to speak about it. The dark churning feeling in my gut told me I did though.

A small sobbing noise from behind me had me over the edge before I could comprehend the forced laugh bubbling out of my throat.

"Oh!" I grinned, not feeling genuine in the least when I turned to Apha. She looked at me warily, like she was seeing me for the first time. My head felt stuffed with cotton and all I could hear was _bastard, bastard, bastard-_

"Paladins are knights of virtue." I quoted softly, swaying a little in delirious giddiness. "Knights of chivalry, courage, and beholders of the Light. They protect the weak and fight the evil. They swear an oath to help. To be kind."

I laughed, feeling the ridiculousness of the situation crashing down around me. My sisters, paladins of the Silver Hand! Uther the Lightbringer, first knight of the Silver Hand, would be their commander! The joke was almost as big of a cluster fuck as this city. A city ruled by a king who would die by his son. A city turned to ashes and, sooner or later, the dwelling of an underground zombie fortress. Led by that prince's former ranger captain! My best friend was going to be a dead man! My sisters would be murdered! And me, here, wondering when I'll get attention and being startled when I actually get _looked_ at. That was a surefire way to stop the Scourge! Or maybe even the burning of Strathholme. Fun times ahead!

It was just so _stupid._

"You know." I said, like the weather was nice and things weren't fucked up. "There are people dying. Right now. You know? A lot of them. That's why you became Paladins right?"

I leaned back and forth, watching Apha's expression curiously. She looked stricken. I didn't doubt Phila looked the same.

"No, that's not right." My voice sounded cruel to my ears. "It's cause father said so, right? You'd do anything for him. You'd kill each other if he asked you to. You'd step on each other's faces just to be better, to be loved."

 _Because I wanted that too, the craving for even a smile, but look, look, here comes the closing act-_

I mimicked their voices horribly. "Helpless! Pathetic! Shameful!" It sounded even worse coming from my toddler mouth. I wondered if I had ever said those words aloud. "Let's make a bet."

"Aiden." Phila's voice was weak behind me, like she'd gotten closer. I was half tempted to turn around, but my feet weren't working. She almost sounded like she was warning me.

"Let's make a bet." I repeated, watching Apha's face twitch, her skin going rapidly pale. "I bet you'll never be Paladins! Ever! You'll never make it. The moment they see you, they'll be so disgusted, they'll cast you out!"

"Aiden."

I froze, my bravado leaving me with a hoarse wheeze. That hadn't been the twins. Timmy's voice isn't that deep. Any confidence or surge of courage left with a wisp of barreling fear. Every muscle in me locked up. There was a shadow towering over me. It wasn't Phila.

 _You're kidding, haha, you're kidding it can't be-_

"Aiden." Had he ever said my name before, like that? At all? Hysterically, I wondered if I could fake a stoke right there. Maybe I wouldn't have to turn around. My feet weren't connected to my brain apparently, because they were swinging me around to face him.

Father was tall, I'd known this, but seeing the towering stature of a true Silver Hand paladin was almost as terrifying as the heavy frown I could see between his mustache and beard. He was still in armor, the shining grey steel almost blinding in the gleaming sun. His tabard was almost three times my size, weighing over him with the insignia that started this whole mess.

"Aiden." He said, arms crossing over each other- _he could lift me up like a football and throw me over the damn city walls if he wanted to-_ as he looked down at me. Briefly, I noted Timmy behind him, eyes wide and terrified as I felt.

I opened my mouth, unable to make words. I wouldn't even know what to say. What could I say? How much had he heard? _What the fuck oh god what the fuck-_

"Follow me."

His feet were already moving away, the heavy footfalls of his boots rattling my heart. It was beating loudly in my ears. My legs twitched as I took the first few steps after him, my chest almost heaving in protest at the movement. I glanced over at Timmy, briefly, to see tears down his face. The sight was so pitiful I looked away.

.

.


	8. Red Devils Arc: 3

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I was getting disowned.

Well, with the loosest meaning of the word (a running theme in this damn family). I _could_ go into excruciating detail the long walk from the yard to the house. I could talk all about standing in the kitchen as father casually makes himself a glass of water. I could tell you all about being led into his room and drawing out a dusty, ratty tabard with the Silver Hand emblem. I could even painstakingly describe his face as he told me I wasn't worthy of the Demond name and would serve my own work until I was ready.

But I'll just cut the tears short and tell you I was being sent to this world's version of boot camp.

It was weird. In my past life I'd been nothing if not law abiding. My parents were proud of my high school diploma and encouraged my accounting degree with almost an embarrassing amount of cheer. I didn't have any distinguishable marks and I certainly wasn't a delinquent. I was hopelessly normal.

I'd never made my mother cry, if walking in a cap and gown counted otherwise. While I didn't consider my newest mother anything to replace the gentle soul that raised me in another world, it was heart wrenching to know those watery eyes were because I'd opened my big mouth.

"Do you have everything packed?" She fluttered around my room, her red dress blooming around her with its frills. I remained tight lipped as she floundered around my wardrobe, pulling out slacks and vests and folding them into a satchel. She was trying so damn hard to keep her composure while this whole house was in shreds. It was sort of amazing.

"I have my pass." I mumbled, touching the scroll in my back pocket. A weather beaten cloak was thrown around my shoulders, the clasp old and rusty. The itchy shirt and short, scruffy pants felt out of place compared to the high end silk I was used to. Traveling clothes felt like another tally to the things I was starting to lose.

"Good." My mother straightened, hefting up an old fraying satchel with her willowy arms. I dreaded carrying it and almost flinched at the musty smell it held. But my arms were threading through the straps and I found myself staring up at her. If the twins ever grew up, I'd imagine they'd look like triplets standing next to each other. The crimson hair, the emerald eyes, and the mean look. But mothers was soft, heartbroken, and lost.

"You'll be fine." She smiled widely, combing a hand through my hair like she knew it all along. "Just, stay near your sisters and don't be too hasty to grow up, okay?"

Her smile twitched, like the thought physically pained her. My heart ached and I stepped forward, getting sucked into her hug. "I'll do my best."

"Good." She breathed out a rush off air. "Good."

She made some vain adjustments to my hair before we were making our way outside. I idly petted the dog goodbye, wondering if he'd behave and not eat the toads while I was away.

 _Because I had not only screwed myself over, but-_

"Oh!" Timmy's sunny smile seemed bleak and forced, especially with the grey clouds overhead. His aunt hovered at his side, looking about as teary eyed as mother. "Aiden! You're here!"

I didn't know what to say to that, and eyed his silver tabard warily, knowing the same article of clothing was hanging off my own shoulders. The roads were bare, the streets just waking up to a dreary day. My sisters stood somewhat away from the rest of us, neither looking nor talking to each other, merely facing forward. Their faces betrayed nothing.

"All packed?" My mother smiled weakly at my best friend, who's grin brightened somewhat.

"Yeah." He hefted his own, slightly newer sack on his shoulder. "Auntie says I couldn't bring Fidget and Rainy, so take good care of them, okay?"

"Of course, sweetie."

"What about you, Aiden?" Timmy's aunt seemed weak in comparison to my mother's attempt at light hearted chatter. She seemed just as pained as she. I briefly wondered if she blamed me for all this. She wouldn't be wrong. "All ready?"

"Yeah." I confirmed softly, eyes trailing to my feet. "All set."

The two adults broke off into their own chatter, either complaining about the weather or eyeing the road fearfully. Timmy's energy was toned down, like the mood was affecting him too. He still shot me a blinding grin.

"You're going to love Stratholme, Aiden. Festival Lane is beautiful this time of year!" He turned towards the road, swaying happily. "Ma and pa will let us stay with them while we get used to our new jobs. Can you believe this is happening?"

"A dream come true." I mumbled.

"Cheer up." Timmy playfully swatted my shoulder, like he could wipe away all the stress there. "Gosh, it'll be just in time for my eighth birthday too. I wonder if pa will take me fishing again."

The sounds of horse hooves on the cobblestone brought a blanket of hush over us. A large, rectangular carriage appeared around the corner. Two muscled chestnut horses pulled it forward, a greying man with the same tabard as us wheeling it forward. He flicked his hood down in courtesy as he approached, the loud footfalls of the horses almost rattling me to my core.

 _Those things are ten times my height._ I eyed the beasts hesitantly. _What the fuck._

Mothers hand came to my shoulder, gripping it there like reality was catching up to her. I wondered if she'd stop me, that'd she go against father's wishes. It was a telling moment. Him or me.

She let go of my shoulder.

"Be good, okay?" She smiled wanly at me, her hands clasped firmly against her stomach. "Keep yourself out of trouble. Don't go looking for it, you hear?"

"I hear." I shifted, hearing the creaking of wood as my sisters boarded the back. Something inside me twisted about the carelessness of the action. _No goodbyes._

"You best go on now." She crinkled her eyes slightly. "Come home soon, you hear me? Don't dawdle."

"Okay." I opened my mouth, the words caught in my throat. I made a sharp nod, trying to work up the nerve, but the sound of the carriage bell had the words swallowed down. I stepped back, painfully tearing my eyes away from the women who brought me into the world. The back of the carriage looked ratty compared to the glamorous front. It'd been worn down by many feet. Another man in a silvery tabard stretched his hand down to me, his face shadowed by the hood over his head. I didn't think as I took the hand, feeling my feet leave the ground and being bodily tossed in.

The change was immediate. Instead of the muggy weather of the outside, I got a face full of rancid wet dog and dirty human sweat. The smell almost brought me to tears, finding myself next to Timmy and pressed up against the door of the carriage. I didn't expect there to more people inside, but four more teenagers sat hunched around us. The eldest looking to be barely twenty, the youngest maybe twelve.

 _All aboard angst express._ I let my eyes wander over the door, where the outside world seemed so far away. My mother and Timmy's aunt stood to the side of the road, waving primly to us. They were the only ones there. I waved back, feeling Timmy lean over me to do the same.

"Take care of each other!" One of them yelled, but it was drowned out by the sharp clack of a whip and the heavy steps of the horses. And almost too soon they were out of sight.

I tried not to poke my head up and look for the twins, likely huddled at the far back of the carriage and away from me. The thought had me grimacing, pressing myself against the door and throwing my hood up to stop any would be conversation starters. Timmy couldn't take a hint if it was wiggling right in front of him.

"Boy, this is exciting. You haven't been outside the city before, haven't you?" Timmy said, his voice gratingly loud. I hadn't a doubt the others in the carriage could hear him over the stifling silence. It was almost embarrassing. "You're going to love it! The weathers getting colder, so Tirisfal isn't so pretty like it was in the fall, but Darrowmere Forest is still ripe with lotus. We can pick some before they wilt!"

Someone snorted nearby. I didn't raise my head to check. Timmy heard, his voice cutting off abruptly like he realized something startling. It was silent for a moment, before his voice carried lowly in my ear.

"Aiden, look."

I did, wearily peaking up over the door. Under different circumstances, I might have been awed and blown away by the sight of the gargantuan city walls. The gate itself lowered with ominous clicking and groans, the faint noise of shouting over the wall bringing activity I didn't think there was to the sleepy morning. A few guards, with familiar blue plumes on their helmets bringing a sharp stinging nostalgia. The winter chill fogged their breaths from beneath their helmets. In another life, I would have asked for their picture. This time I felt the itch to scream at them to disappear.

"If yer lucky, you fellas will make it there." The carriage master cackled from the front. Timmy's face drew down into a frown, his eyes dulling at the banter. I meshed my mouth into a thin line, knowing I was the one who'd gotten him here. The least I could fucking do was make it worthwhile.

I glanced back over the door, feeling the carriage pitch forward over the gangplank. The expanse of the city disappeared behind the large gate, the wheels rocking us from side to side as we hit cobblestone once more. I thought the city had been silent. It was nothing compared to the quiet of watching as the gate closed in the distance, the vast walls sealing out any and all from sight, including us. Tall, pointy pine trees began to cover the sight of it, the road growing thinner and more travel worn as we went onwards. I felt Timmy lean into me as time passed, not asleep but not lively.

 _Fix this._ A familiar voice demanded, pulling at my stomach.

I opened my mouth, finding the words not there. I closed it dumbly, feeling heat crawl up my neck in annoyance. The least I could do and I couldn't even do that. I risked another glance out the door, hoping for anything eye catching.

It was snowing.

"Timmy." I rolled my shoulder to get him up. "Look."

He mumbled sleepily and pressed himself forward, nearly falling into my lap as he peaked over the door. His drooping eyes and exhausted face changed in a heartbeat, wonder and awe sparkling in his eyes.

"Aiden!" He whispered as loudly as he dared, insistently tugging at my shoulder. "Aiden, it's snowing! Winter's Veil is here!"

"Mhm." I allowed a small smile, amused at his love for little things. "It's cool."

"So cool!" He whistled merrily. "See? I told you things would work out. We're going to be squires! Everything is going to be okay. You'll see!"

My smile wilted slightly, but he kept his eyes out the door, watching every snowflake like it was the best thing in a long time. For a brief moment, it wasn't my best friend sitting next to me. It was a slightly older boy, with the same haircut and the same face. He was standing in a street of fire and screams, his face lost and scared. A shadow is approaching and his fear turns to earnest hope. A presence is bearing down all around him, gaunt faces in the smoke. He's oblivious and happy and doesn't see the blade until-

 _Take care of each other!_

I wince and hold back the shaky breath, knowing Timmy would catch on. He was still quiet, waiting for an answer or just enjoying the sights. I let out a careful exhale.

"Yeah." I lied. "It'll be okay."

.

.


End file.
